(Editor's note: Salty language ahoy!)

Albuquerque can bite my shiny metal ass.

Okay, let me expound.

So, tonight, I was zipping home on Paseo when suddenly "cur-WUNK!" followed by the equally ominous "wussa-wussa-wussa-wussa." My steering wasn't heavy, but the racket. Oh, the racket. I thought I'd blown a tire.

Here's what ran through my head as I came to this thought: Fuck, I've blown a tire. FUCK. I don't have a flashlight. Fuck, my phone's out of batteries. Fuck, I really think I've blown a tire. Don't brake, just coast. Fuck, it sounds like my front left. Fuuuck, how the hell am I supposed to change that? I don't want to die on Paseo. Fuck.

Yeah, I tend to think a little blue.

For the uninitiated, Paseo del Norte is a six lane stretch of expressway that connects the northeast and northwest corridor of the city. Between Jefferson NE (just north of the Journal) and Coors NW (just west of the river), it's an unbroken ribbon of highway. Without shoulders, really. Oh, and with a sixty mile an hour speed limit. Which most Duke City drivers take as a suggestion.

But I had made it to the bridge, which is wide enough to accommodate a stranded car, flipped on the hazards, waited for a break in traffic, and checked on the tire.

The tire was fine.

Just fine, in fact. For a minute, I thought I was imagining things. But, by the glint of oncoming traffic's headlights, I saw it. The wheel well lining had decided to come loose and was flapping around. I pulled. It had no give. I tugged. Nothing. I put my full weight behind it and yoinked. Nada. I thought, Hey! No biggy. It's plastic. It'll be fine. I'll drive to the nearest parking lot and fix it my own self.

Got back in the car, waited for another break in traffic, turned off the hazards, pulled off the bridge and made it another thousand feet before the world ended. First the lining decided to flap around. Okay, that's freaky. But then it decided to wrap around my wheel and fuck with the steering. While making a noise that Hollywood tells me means "body trapped under car."

Pull over again, hit the hazards again, wait for another bubble, and check the tire. Amazingly enough (to me) it was fine. I got ahold of the plastic and managed to pull it from around the wheel, but I didn't want to continue driving with the plastic flopping around.

Popped the trunk and checked the tire kit. All I had was the jack and the lug wrench, which I pulled out for what? I'm not certain at this point.

But picture it: your favorite car chick, stranded on the side of Paseo, standing behind her car, holding a blunt object while trying to figure out how to rip this liner off her car with a lug wrench in heavy traffic. Now picture her getting honked at by some ass in a white, late model Ford F150. Now picture that white, late model Ford F150 taking a "playful" swerve at her. Now picture her running back to the safety of her car, fastening her seatbelt (like that's going to do any good) and freaking the fuck out.

My cell phone cooperated for this:

Adam: Hello?
Me (crying): I'm stuck! On Paseo!
Adam: Oh, poogle, it'll be okay. I'll see you in awhile.
Me (crying harder): I'm stuck! My car! It's broken! The wheel liner came,
Adam: You have to speak up, I can't understand you. Your wheel's broken? Just change the ti
Me: No it's --

And the phone, she dies again.

I waited on Paseo for another half an hour before Adam turned up (he drove all the way to Jefferson -- 12 miles from our house -- and flipped around to make sure he didn't miss me). In that time, I was passed by the following:

Three APD cruisers
Three Bernalillo County Sherrif's Deputies
Two ambulances
and
Two tow trucks
And so many fucking yellow-ribbon-Jesus-fish-wearing SUVs and minivans that I lost count.

Nobody stopped.

I had my hazards on. I had my dome light on. I was clutching the steering wheel and trying not to freak out. Not a single person decided to pull over.

By the time Adam turned up, I had decided that if he didn't show (which, wha? This is Adam we're talking about here) I would wait until 11 p.m. or so, and then climb under the car and yank; traffic would be down and I'd probably have a better chance at survival.

But Adam did turn up. He check the wheel, rolled his eyes, whipped out one of his many scary knives, cut it loose and dumped it in my passenger seat. "Go home," he ordered. "Go home."

Now here's where I let you all in on a little secret: I'm not Totally Tough Girl. I held it together until I got into the house, but when Adam started in on, "I thought I'd taught you better," I just fell apart. I bawled. I sniffled. I called my mommy.

Eventually I calmed down and related the above account. Adam listened and conceded that yeah, he'd probably freak out after the honk-n-swerve and watching Albuquerque's finest pass by without a second glance. But still, I think he's ashamed of the way I handled myself.

Adam: If this ever happens again, just drive.
Sarah: But I was afraid of damaging the tire or the wheel.
Adam: ...
Sarah (timidly): Tire or wheel?
Adam: You could destroy all the tires and all the wheels on two of the cars, and we'd still have enough to keep all three vehicles in shoes.

This is true. Right now we have a dozen tires in the garage, a full set in the living room, a set in the spare room, and a couple in the loft. You'd think I would have remembered that on Paseo. He also mentioned that ripping off parts of a car while in motion is "making the car faster."

Oh.

I'm not proud of what happened, because I should have maintained my Totally Tough Girl composure and driven home. But, it's going to pass. Hell, it's already turning into a funny-ish story. By the time all the Miata guys show up, I can sell it as a "look at how stupid and flighty I can be! Everyone laugh at me" yarn.

Still, for right now, after sitting in my car for forty-five minutes as traffic streamed by? After watching APD and BCSD not give a shit? Not even bother to render aid?

Albuquerque can bite my shiny metal ass.